For the first time in a while, Mike was in his casual clothes, a pair of tight jeans and a Superman hoodie. Of course he was going to buy his actual merch when he got the chance. He spent most of his life reading comics, and you can't talk about comics without talking about the Man of Steel.
For Mike, it was kind of refreshing to feel the fresh air. He was extremely sleep-deprived and had been planning and executing several terrorist attacks for Hawkgirl for the past month. He was unsure when this threat was supposed to appear; he had no timeframe. He had no idea how long it would take him to shape these heroes into shape.
Luckily for him, outside the apartment block he was staying in, there was a SunBucks (Starbucks). Even in a different dimension, copyright still fucks you over.
He opened the door and tried to act as casual as possible. He was just ordering a coffee. A completely normal activity for a completely normal citizen. Mike, still somewhat paranoid, make sure to avoid eye contact as much as possible without drawing attention.
He did, in fact, draw attention, though they all thought he was just socially anxious.
Finally, it was his time to order. "Can I have your most normal order, please...You know what, scratch that, just give me a cappuccino with oat milk instead, medium size or whatever you call it." He thought to himself: *Nailed it!*
The barista gave him a strange look, but she wasn't paid enough for whatever that was and accepted his order before getting to work.
The door made its little chime behind him, signifying someone opening the door. Mike didn't notice, just staring at the table while waiting for his coffee.
The person who entered walked right next to him, ready to order her drink. Curious, he took a small glance, then looked back at the table. His head then shot into position, now glaring at the woman next to him, his jaw dropping to the ground.
It was Hawkgirl.
Her wavy orange hair was parted and fell to her shoulders and leather jacket that covered a plain white shirt with normal black trousers. She lacked wings and, from what he could tell, no mace, but after drawing her a few times, he could recognise her look from a mile away.
His mind blue-screened. If you were to tap his head, it would sound hollow. What should have been a normal day, a normal coffee, ended up being the worst moment of his life.
Shayera decided to take the day off for herself. To be alone with her thoughts. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get that damned Sophist out of her mind. Irritatingly so.
She kept on rewinding what happened; she couldn't shake the feeling that Sophist definitely intervened to save the child. But why? He put them there in the first place; why would he care what happened to them? None of it made sense.
Shayera couldn't help but notice the guy with his jaw wide open next to her. She assumed he was ogling her. That he was some weird pervert. But usually they look lower; he was looking her dead in the eyes.
"Are you ok? "Is there a ghost behind me?" she eventually told the man.
Mike's mind finally turned back on, and he realised he just spent god knows how long just staring at the person who wants to kill him the most in the entire world.
"Sorry, just...uh...checking the time!" He reached for his phone in his pocket, and while lifting his hand, he dropped it onto the floor. "Shit!" he exclaimed quickly, squatting down to retrieve it.
"A Latte for Seth!" the barista called out.
"That would be...wait, I'm not Seth," Mike blurted out. He was quite literally falling apart. For everyone to see. For his arch-nemesis to see.
*I'm so fucked,* he thought.
"You know how when you're trying to show something you get all clumsy... wait, but that doesn't make any sense; I'm usually not like this. I like to think of myself as quite graceful, elegant in a way. But then again, I do end up stubbing my toe a lot. I hate stubbing my toe; it shouldn't hurt that much, but for some reason it always does. Does that happen to...wait, what am I doing?!" His nervousness took over, and he ended up over-explaining something when he really should have just stayed quiet.
Shayera had never met a man in such utter shambles like this before. It was new. Which says a lot, because she's seen unspeakable things through her multiple lifetimes. It was somewhat adorable.
She took a small step forward. "Do you usually get like this without your dose of caffeine? I must say it's the first time I've seen someone ramble on about stubbing toes before their fix," she joked. Trying to keep casual.
"No. I'm just shitting myself." He didn't realise he said the last part out loud. He just blurted out a response in a panic without much thought while hoping she would just magically combust. At this point he wouldn't mind combusting into flames himself right now.
"Well, that's...something." Shayera tried to contain her grin, but she found the man too amusing to resist. "I hope you find a way to relieve yourself soon." For the first time in hours Sophist wasn't in her mind. Now it was just the weird fellow at the coffee shop. It was nice. To take her mind off things. To not have to worry when the bastard would attack again.
"You're quite amusing, you know. I think this is the first time I've seen someone openly admit to needing the toilet like you."
Mike didn't know how to respond. He could only think about her little grin. *'She knows!'* was repeated in his head over and over. He actually hoped the Whale would come back; maybe this time he'll reincarnate as a wealthy noble and live a lavish life. Hell, a goldfish would do.
"Thank you!" Mike replied with a smile of acceptance.
"Do you live around here?" she questioned.
"Yep, in fact, I appeared here about two months ago, and now I can't leave," he replied. He truly just gave up. He was a comic book writer. It took all of his willpower to do all those things as Sophist, and now Hawkgirl had appeared right before him.
"I understand the feeling. The city can feel so crowded at times. Like the walls are closing in and there's no space to breathe. Sometimes I wish I could move to the countryside somewhere and retire, living a full life. Fresh air and no worries or responsibilities. But you're tied down because of work. You can't exactly quit, can you?" All her lifetimes ended with death. There was no peace, just death in battle. A warrior's wish. It was just tiring now; all her life ever amounted to time was constant fighting; it was all she ever knew. She wanted to finally be at rest and find love again. Her first love continued to reincarnate with her, but every time he was a different person, and so was she. Eventually that spark they shared disappeared, and more than ever did she want it back. To have someone. To have something besides a mace and wings.
"I get what you mean; it's not very inspiring. It's all bland and boring, but every now and then a little moment happens, and it's beautiful. Love, death, tragedy, and joy. So many little stories all intertwining with each other. People always try to do their best for others and leave little for themselves. They're scared of being judged; they believe they have to do this and that; they believe they owe the world. They let the pressure build up, and eventually small cracks appear, and then the little glass box breaks. Life is meant to be enjoyed. It's ok to take breaks and fix the cracks. You deserve to care for yourself. Once you mend your glass box, then you can start to help others fix their own cracks. Even Superman tends to his glass box before he saves people," Mike told her. He had forgotten that he was Sophist. At the moment he was just Mike, helping a still-young hero find her way. To rise above and never falter. Like he was writing a comic book again.
Shayera took a while to actually digest what Mike had said. Maybe it was ok for her to spend more time on herself instead of being the hero everyone needed her to be. Maybe she could fix her little glass box.
"Thank you. That was really helpful," she told Mike. "I must say I didn't expect the guy who was shitting himself to be Socrates," she joked.
"Well, first impressions don't tell you everything."
"I just can't help but think about the crane incident. How someone could do such evil things and turn people's lives into a game for his own sick amusement." Her tone wasn't angry. Just thoughtful.
Mike turns to stone for a small second before responding. "People are complicated. It's almost never as simple as being good or bad; it's a spectrum. There are so many in-betweens."
"There's nothing in-between about taking 40 people hostage!" she snarled back. "Sorry, I got a little heated."
"Until he's captured or reveals his motives, we won't know what kind of person he is. The reasoning behind them matters just as much as the action. If a homeless child shoplifted, would you say that's evil? If a man committed armed robbery so he could get his baby medicine, would he be completely irredeemable?"
"That's different!" she replied.
"Mike, your cappuccino with oat milk is ready." The barista called out loudly.
Mike jumped at the sudden call.
THANK GOD. 'That's the longest wait of my life,' he screamed in his mind.
"That would be me," he exclaimed. Mike quickly reached for his coffee, nearly spilling it all in the process, but now he was finally ready to leave. "Great meeting...Nice talking...to you. Good luck with...everything," he awkwardly stuttered before power walking out the door.
Shayera noticed how he didn't even look back. Like he hadn't given it a second thought. He didn't ask for her number, a coffee date, or to talk for longer. Nope. He practically ran away from her. He seemed somewhat relieved to be leaving, which bothered her. Just a little.
Outside, around a block away, Mike was bent over with his spare hand on his knee and heavily breathing. He breathed in deeply before fist bumping the air, spilling his newly bought coffee all over him.
He didn't get his skull crushed by a mace.
His identity was still a secret.
He spoke to Hawkgirl and lived.
He took a sip of what little coffee remained. It burned. Both his mouth and skin and people glared at him like he was insane, but he didn't care.
Shayera found an unoccupied table and took a seat, with her coffee hot in her hands. She didn't know why, but that man she talked to seemed somewhat familiar, like they had met each other before.
She couldn't quite place it, but the man didn't seem to recognize her either, so she quickly stopped that thought, believing he was just a weird stranger.